


In the shadow of Steel

by AtomBombBabie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angry Sex, Anti-Brotherhood, Blowjobs, Face-Fucking, Gunplay, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Blind Betrayal, Rare Pairings, Spanking, Synthphobia, Under-negotiated Kink, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 10:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtomBombBabie/pseuds/AtomBombBabie
Summary: His voice choked off suddenly as Danse's patience ended, strong fingers shaking with fury wrapped around his throat and squeezed. He was hauled forward until the two men were nearly nose to nose, his hands coming up to scrabble at the Paladin's orange flightsuit. He felt warm breath on his lips, and the eyes that glared into his promised something much worse then the fist fight Deacon had vaguely begun anticipating."Give me.. a single reason.. I shouldn't shoot you for treason." Everything in the man's demeanor said he was barely holding back, and the spy found himself blanking on his own positive qualities, which he normally delighted in fabricating or embellishing. Why exactly shouldn't he be killed? What was one decent reason to spare him? Well shit..."I have no gag reflex."





	In the shadow of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there everyone! A little warning-  
This work is entirely UnBeta'd and Raw.  
I've done my best to catch any obvious errors, which means the less than obvious ones, plus some, must remain.  
Feel free to point them out, and I'll do my best to make this read as smoothly as possible.  
Without further ado, please enjoy this filth~

The wind was howling through the mostly empty concrete shell of the old South Boston airport, only a handful of Knights and Scribes on duty to add a bit of noise to the otherwise uninterrupted silence. Everyone had been on high alert just a few hours ago, with the gunfire and explosions not too far off in the distance; But the fight didn't last, and soon the airport was standing down with the news that Fort Strong had been cleared of all Super Mutant hostiles. After a good bit of Vertibird traffic all seemed to go still, other than the flutter of activity high above on the Prydwen's decks.  
Deacon had accompanied Charmer on a few missions for the Railroad, and they'd been traveling together for just over a week, which had been quite illuminating to the spy for many reasons. For instance, despite over two months of surveillance, he'd only discovered in this past week of travel what an utter packrat their new Heavy was, or how he tended to be dangerously helpful to anyone who asked nicely. Also, there was the life expectancy statistics that were destined to be tarnished further, since the new agent enjoyed long walks out into the open, as if scopes didn't exist. Deacon also learned things about himself in the last week, like how he actually.. kinda.. really liked a traveling companion? Granted, Charmer didn't have the knack of stealth yet, pacing boldly around corners only to have ferel ghouls or Raiders launch themselves from trashpiles and alleyways. This usually resulted in his vault dwelling friend shouting expletives as he unloaded a redundant amount of bullets into whatever it was this time. But even that bit of naiveté was more endearing than bothersome, when he was being honest with himself, which he tried to do semi-regularly since he was rarely honest with anyone else.

Several days ago the pair had seen the Brotherhood's airship arrive in the Commonwealth, heard the hollow platitudes and concealed threats echo out over the radiation scarred land, and Deacon had bit his cheek to keep a calm face as he felt a hole opening up under him. He hadn't expected them to arrive so soon.. The Brotherhood had been more or less a helpful organization just over a decade ago, while they attempted to cleanse the Capital Wasteland. But now, and here? There couldn't have been a more foreboding omen for the future of the Commonwealth. And then Deacon's companion had picked up a new radio frequency, a Paladin named Danse was recalling all Brotherhood members to Cambridge police station. Charmer had quickly swapped some gear with his traveling companion, asked him to head back to HQ and let Desdemona know he'd be back for their next assignment in a week or two tops, and gathered himself together before heading east.

It was sorta sweet, how he thought Deacon wasn't gonna follow him.

They'd reached the old yet surprisingly well fortified police station just after dusk, the spy watching as the man he'd been traveling with jogged up the steps and disappeared inside. It's not that he hadn't been to the station before, nor was he unfamiliar with the Paladin inside. In fact, Deacon wasn't entirely sure his surveillance had gone unnoticed the last time he'd staked this place out, though he was gone before anyone had actually caught him. It's just that, firstly he was supposed to be back at HQ like a good little messenger pidgeon, whatever that was; and secondly, he would like to avoid being made as Railroad by the BOS. Who knows what intel they had on his organization already, and he'd promptly be burned as an agent if he even survived interrogation. Which wouldn't be easy if he dove headfirst into the new headquarters of this budding Nazi regime. 

Deacon had only just found a place to hide and observe when he heard the vertibird on the roof fire up. The clang of Power Armor reached him just in time to see the Paladin and Charmer emerging onto the station roof and hoisting themselves into the aircraft. Deacon cursed under his breath and left his hiding place as they took off, jogging to the edge of the roof and watching as they grew more and more distant, until they'd faded completely. South huh? No doubt going to the Prydwen for new orders. Guess he knew where he was heading next, at least.

A full night and half a day of travel had him reaching the airport, which had quickly and.. efficiently been cleared and occupied. Despite the constant presence of Knights and Initiates he was able to slip in fairly easily, finding some Brotherhood fatigues and dropping into character instantly. He'd managed to stay off anyone's radar, looking as busy and self righteous as possible whenever he'd cross paths with anyone. He was proud to say he'd gathered a solid bit of intel in the last 18 hours, including what his compatriot was doing for the Brotherhood currently. Needless to say, the explosions and gunfire from earlier had been his doing, while he cleared an old base nearby. One Deacon happened to know had a stockpile of fatman shells, which was.. worrying. He could definitely see the benefits to having an inside man with the Brotherhood, since needing to know their agenda was going to become a top priority soon enough. But he had to admit, he was bothered by how tied into this group of fascists Charmer seemed to be. If he knew what they stood for and what they'd do to anyone or anything that got in their way, why associate with them? Though that "Help Anyone Who Asks" attitude of his was exactly how the railroad had recruited the sole survivor in the first place.

It was well past midnight when a vertibird descended from above, making the short trip down, a wave of noise that died out as quickly as it started. The spy had to admit to some curiosity, wondering what could be so important that they had to have it done in the middle of the night. In fact he was so curious, and unoccupied, that he decided to a do little recon. Deacon walked as briskly as he could down the brightly lit hallway that led to the landing pad. There was a small commotion up ahead that caused him to side step between two shipping containers, squatting down in the shadow with his back to the hall. The filghtsuits of the ground based troops were different then that of the officers aboard the prydwen, the dark green and black making him really sink into the shade and out of eyesight. He was sure no one would notice him unless they stopped and stared right inbetween the containers, and if that happened.. well.. he was excellent at faking panic attacks, and a lot of these initiates had just seen battle for the first time.

The clanging of metal and chatter of voices grew, making the spy huddle further into himself as he strained his ears to hear everything they said. The hissing and clanging sounds of power armor on the move reached Deacon before the words became clear. He leaned back, cocking his head to the side and closing his eyes to focus.

"-secured in the belly of our great beast, to keep it out of the hands of any who'd use it against us; it'll also be key in our campaign against the abominations of the Institute. Our new Knight has done very well. However, still more threats have been identified and Elder Maxson wants all ground based units to be on the lookout for-"

Deacon could pick up three sets of footsteps as they passed, two were that of standard issue brotherhood boots, most likely a Knight Captain and Field Scribe, as well as the paladin in armor. He heard them turn a corner, the paladin's arrogant dictation quite familiar sounding, tipping Deacon off that they still had Danse in play even at this time of night. No rest for the weary. The spy was about to slip away, and possibly start heading back the HQ, when he caught the tailend of their conversation.

"-this organization, the Railroad, Maxson has named them as one of our first hurdles to bringing the Commonwealth into order. And frankly, he believes they're going to be a problem. Smart, resourceful, and foolish enough to challenge the Institute head on, several times, while still remaining invisible to the Commonwealth population at large. They're soon to become priority number one."

"Pardon me Sir, excuse the interruption, but why exactly does the Elder want us focusing on a group of extremists? If they're a thorn in the institutes side, why not leave it there? Wouldn't it be better to focus directly on the Institute with our full might?"

"That's a fair question, Knight-Captain, but these aren't just simple 'extremists' who want to 'stick it to the man'. These are spies and insurgents bent on unleashing the next apocalypse." Deacon's teeth snapped together and he swiveled on his heel, creeping to the edge of his hiding space and peeking his head out to listen, "The Railroad, in their delusion, sees these synthetic aberrations of man that the institute creates as something worthy of autonomy, worthy of life and freedom. Their ignorance would have synths freed from the hands of their masters, only to see the world finally collapse under the weight of it's sins. Technology Must Be Controlled. If it cannot be, It must be destroyed. That's the sworn mission and oath of the Brotherhood."

"Yes'sir!" 

The spy had to swallow the anger and bile that crawled up his throat, his fingernails biting into his palms so hard he swore he could feel a wet trickle between his fingers. It took him a full seven seconds to unclench his muscles enough to and slide out of his hiding place, straightening and making his way outside, doing his best to not look stiff and suspicious. It was definitely time to go back to HQ. He had messages to deliver, and a kill list to extend. If he had nothing else to lose, he was coming back and offing as many of these fanatics as possible.. Maybe go mutant style, suicide bomb them all to hell. Hadn't he just heard about them storing that payload in the belly of the Prydwin? He might be able to fake it enough to get aboard the ship.

That's what he was fantasizing about as he rounded the corner and came face to face with a slightly familiar Paladin. Well, face to big stupid metal chest plate. He nearly stumbled back, but felt a strong grip on his shoulder that jerked him back upright and steadied him on his feet.

"Whoa there soldier." Danse's voice was low and startled as he caught the man who'd nearly slammed into him, eyes sweeping over the flightsuit and up to the bald head and sunglasses.

"Excuse me sir, sorry about that." What the fuck Deacon? You know what kind of sloppy spy litteraly runs into the guys they're shadowing? Yeah, a dead one, that's right.

He extricated his arm as quickly and politely as he could manage, meaning he wrenched himself free taking two larger than necessary steps backward before remembering to relax his posture, coughing and looking down to conceal his sunglasses at midnight aesthetic as much as his possibly familiar face. After all, Deacon had seen the brunette paladin out in the 'Wealth a handful of times by now, as a caravan guard for a traveling trader, or a merchant at Bunkerhill, or a crazy grifter with a pack brahmin named Todd. Which means that if Danse had observational skills above that of the standard waster, than he'd possibly seen Deacon too; and impeccable disguise or no, it was usually never good to be this close to a hostile target.

"I ah- I was just heading to.. over there, didn't mean to bother you guys. Go back to whatever it was you were doing." He took another large step back, doing a little half wave before turning and walking away as quickly as he could. 

Not his smoothest escape in history.

He could hear of course when the paladin called for him to wait, but he kept walking, hoping that whatever else the man was doing here tonight needed to be done more urgently than dressing down a random initiate for being rude. Deacon rounded the corner and nearly broke into a sprint before he realized, no luck. An ironlike grip latched onto his bicep and half spun him in the process of bringing him to a halt. His breath caught and his head spun for a second at the sensation of being man handled so suddenly. He peeked over his glasses with his head still lowered, only able to see a strong jaw and pouty mouth set in an unamused line. It took a bit longer then he wanted to admit before he noticed that the paladin had exited his power armor to give chase. Which meant, luckily, that the man didn't seem to expect him to be an infiltrator. Perhaps merely a maladjusted soldier. He could do broody and discontent without stepping directly over into dissent. Probably.

"Uh.. Sir?" Deacon said lamely, keeping his eyes down but his posture upright, this time not daring to try and yank himself away.

There was a lower, breathier quality to Danse's voice when he spoke this time, no doubt due to having to run after an initiate only hours after spending the daylight leveling super mutants and arming a dictatorship with enough nukes to wipe out half the Commonwealth. The Brotherhood's favorite jackboot had been a very busy boy. He must've been ready to relax and have this day over with, before this mess started.

"Initiate, what's your name?" The man kept his grip firm, voice commanding attention and obedience, and Deacon reminded himself that he should be spinning a story right now.

"My.. name.. Sir?"

"Don't make me repeat myself soldier."

"It's uh.. Max... Rail. Paladin." His inner voice was spitting out a hundred names that sounded more believable than Max Rail, but it was too late for editing the script now, better to press on. He chanced another glance at the brunette, higher this time to take in the dark eyes that seemed to be glowing amber in the dim light cast by a barrel fire nearby.

"Max Rail.. You're new to the Brotherhood?" It was barely a question. His eyes creased at the corners as he looked Deacon up and down in a slow evaluation, causing the other to squirm internally. 

"I'm.. Y-Yes'sir. I joined about.. two months ago now, I guess? It's hard to keep track, everything's happened so fast. Always thought I'd be a caravan guard or something, ya know? But when I saw the Brotherhood in action, standing against the Super Mutants, I knew I had to sign up right then and there." He rambled on a bit, quickly deciding his backstory and the cadence of his voice, making his character as relatable as he could with the information he had on hand.

"Who is your commanding officer?"

"Who isn't?" Deacon laughed, hoping to ease the paladin with a bit of good humor, but receiving no reaction other then the fingers around his arm tightening almost imperceptibly.

"Knight-Sergeant Gavil commands our unit, Paladin Danse." Deacon swallowed, hoping he'd remembered properly who was currently stationed and in charge at the airport, as some units had stayed while other's were immediately reassigned, and he only had intelligence on the airport encompassing the last 24 hours or so.

"Hmn." Danse hummed noncommittally, still looking the other man over, "And what has you away from your post in the middle of the night?"

"I ah.. Bathroom?" The spy was now visibly squirming beneath the paladin's heavy gaze, feeling unusually hot under the collar. This stupid sweat suit! If the Brotherhood wasn't already thrice cursed in his book for bigotry and self-importance, he'd add another mark for terrible fashion choices. No matter how great his ass looked in this outfit.

"Gavil's unit is on the other side of the airport right now, guarding the western perimeter, and you had to use the bathroom.. here?" There was unmistakable fire in his eyes now, and he seemed to unconsciously pull the other man closer to him.

"No! Well, yes, a bit. You see, I was running an errand for the captain, delivering something to the Scribes. And then I had to water the bushes. I was heading back now, Sir." 

Fuck! He really wasn't prepared for twenty questions with an aggressive, overly handsy Paladin. He hadn't slept in a solid 56 hours, and he hadn't been man handled in a solid 6 months. Things were really getting out of control, in more ways then he cared to discuss.

"You're going the wrong direction."

"Of course I am.." Deacon swallowed thickly.

"So here's what I think," Danse began in a growl and Wow, okay, not a promising start for civility but his dick didn't exactly mind that gruff tone of voice, "You joined the brotherhood thinking it'd be easy to shoot whatever you were pointed at, and for your obedience you'd get three hots, a cot, maybe some stories to brag to your friends about. In your mind, It didn't take an expert to clear an area of some ferals or mutants, just a couple guys with guns and excess bullets, some power armor if you're really talented. But then it was boots down, enemies and brothers falling all around you, the blood and the screams, fight or flight. And you choked. Now you're thinking you bit off more than you can chew, and you want to run back home with your tail between your legs. Isn't that right?"

Well.. that was, concise. And not even 100% off, which was both impressive and slightly vexing. Deacon felt his teeth gnash together in frustration. This guy was seriously calling Him a coward? The Brotherhood pranced around in their man shaped tanks, bullying and stealing their way up the foodchain, all in the name of Human Supremacy. What did he know about the blood and screams that haunted Deacon every time he closed his eyes? The failures and the bodies that littered the landscape of his mind? Logically, he knew it was 'Max Rail' who was being accused of deserting, but Deacon felt his hackles standing on end.

"Nothing to say for yourself, soldier?" The paladin was glaring down at him, an angry sneer marring his handsome face.

"Here's what I think.." Deacon parroted, eyes alighting with fury beneath his glasses, "Before the Brotherhood of Steel you were a little nothing scrap scrounger from one of the bigger capital wasteland cities, maybe Megaton or Rivet City. You thought the happiest you'd ever be was cracking a few beers with a buddy to the music of junk haggling and the smell of brahmin shit. Until one day the larger then life BOS came swaggering through town, maybe rescued some caravan or wiped out a mutant nest; no doubt this was back when Elder Lyons was still kicking, and the Brotherhood was using there forces to help the population instead of pandering to dissenters and raping the wasteland of it's resources. You were probably tripping over yourself to join the fight, weren't you? Bring the steel to those who need it. And now you've been their loyal lap dog for.. oh, let's say.. fifteen years? Give or take."

Danse had gone from stunned anger to icey death, but Deacon wasn't done. His mouth was still going and he could feel himself starting to float a bit, looking at the scene he was causing from a half step to the right and up. Was that really what the back of his head looked like? Strange. Maybe he should let his hair grow back out. The Paladin's lips pulling tight across his teeth into a snarl or grimace had the spy focusing back in on his own words.

"You became the most obedient and unquestioning little tool in their arsenal too. Which is why they sent you on this recon to the Commonwealth, and have allowed you to continue working exclusively with the high value targets or priority assets. Always willing to pull the trigger or get on your knees for the good of the Brotherhood, right Paladin Danse? Hell, you'll probably make Sentinel soon, with how willing you are to blindly follow whatever fascist bullshit Maxson decides the Brotherhood stands for now-"

His voice choked off suddenly as Danse's patience ended, strong fingers shaking with fury wrapped around his throat and squeezed. He was hauled forward until the two men were nearly nose to nose, his hands coming up to scrabble at the Paladin's orange flightsuit. He felt warm breath on his lips, and the eyes that glared into his promised something much worse then the fist fight Deacon had vaguely begun anticipating.

"Give me.. a single reason.. I shouldn't shoot you for treason." Everything in the man's demeanor said he was barely holding back, and the spy found himself blanking on his own positive qualities, which he normally delighted in fabricating or embellishing. Why exactly shouldn't he be killed? What was one decent reason to spare him? Well shit...

"I have no gag reflex."

There was a flicker of confusion, then surprise, than back to something like calculating aggression.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because I-" Deacon rasped, swallowing thickly and gripping the broad shoulders in front of him, "I could put my treasonous tongue to much better use. Totally up to you of course, no huge deal for me, I'd just personally prefer to deepthroat your cock instead of your pistol.. Sir."

The spy saw the flames flicker to life, those amber eyes traveling to his lips when he licked them, and the grip on his throat loosened just enough to allow him to fill his lungs completely. Deacon decided it worth the risk to move one hand from the paladin's shoulder to the front of his suit, knuckles lightly bumping against the bulge that had formed there. He saw the brunette's nostrils flare before he bared his teeth again, grabbing the other man's wrist and jerking it into the air, forcing him forward another centimeter. Their bodies were aligned from thigh to chest, and the spy felt that bulge he'd brushed previously against his hip now. The blood was pounding so loudly in his ears he nearly missed when Danse began to speak, voice as much a threat as a whisper against the shell of his ear.

"You're gonna beg for it, Soldier. Show me you want it, that you'll do anything your betters demand of you. If I believe you, maybe I'll just drag you back to Gavil. But if I don't.. well, try not to dwell. Wouldn't want it to affect your performance." 

Deacon staggered as he felt himself being released, but had little time to recover before a gun was pressed to the corner of his jaw. He stilled and locked eyes with the other man. His choices were.. workable, he supposed. But he was going to have to try and squeak out a third option from the paladin, if he wanted to slip away without raising a commotion or blowing his cover. Still gripping one strong shoulder, he used it to keep his shaking legs under him while the other hand splayed across a damnably sturdy chest. What the hell were they feeding these Brotherhood boys? He was ashamed to say it wasn't fear or adrenaline that had him almost collapsing at the Paladin's feet. Danse had probably felt the proof of how much he wanted it, but if the man needed a show then he was gonna get one. 

A hand came into his vision and his glasses were quickly snatched from his face before being unceremoniously tossed to the ground. Deacon winced and bit his tongue to hold back a snarky remark, heeding the quirk of Danse's brows that read, 'Go ahead and say something, I dare you.' Which was both tempting, in a masochistic way, and.. sexy, also probably in a masochistic way. Once again, with self reflection and honest introspection, he could admit this entire scenario had practically been ripped right from the pages of Deacons Darkest Fantasies: Fuck me, Kill me edition. Or maybe Deep Cover edition. He'd have to figure out the name to his pornographic biography at a later date

The paladin took one step back, crossed his arms with the gun hanging loosely over his bicep, and looked down his nose as he spoke to his subordinate, "You should pick those up."

The command was clear, and the spy couldn't remember the last time he'd been ordered to his knees. He felt his dick twitch and had to bite his lip, swallowing hard but maintaining eye contact as he sunk somewhat smoothly to his knees. He chastised himself in his head when he noticed his hands were shaking, but all things considered, any normal soldier would probably be shaken up right now. Either fearing for their job or their position, so to speak. So he didn't bother to hide the tremor in his fingers as he reached down, finally breaking eye contact, and retrieved his glasses. Knowing better than to put them on, he folded them carefully and slid them into his hip pocket, hoping they'd survive there until he could use them again. Whenever that would be.

Once again, thick fingers that smelled faintly of soap and blaster ozone entered his line of sight, but this time they gripped his chin, lifting his face to reestablish eye contact. The desire in the other man's gaze was clear and unbridled now, obviously enjoying the sight of Deacon on his knees. Of Max Rail on his knees, Deacon thought to himself, biting the inside of his cheek. For the briefest moment he found himself wondering if he'd get to hear this man moaning for Max, and if he'd even be able to enjoy that. Not that enjoying this was the point. Those thoughts were wiped away though, by a thumb sliding over his plump lower lip twice before slipping in and rubbing against his tongue. Thoughtlessly, he sucked the digit further into his mouth, a quiet moan escaping while he was without the presence of mind to stop it.

Danse's breathing became heavier and slightly uneven, but his posture and coordination remained that of a man utterly in control. The thumb in Deacon's mouth slid over his tongue in a slow drag before popping free, immediately rubbing saliva all over his parted lips, making them glisten in the firelight. The paladin's pupils were blown so wide his brown eyes had gone black, and the spy felt a shudder roll down his spine. It was like he was at the mercy of some mythical beast. A Minotaur perhaps, or some kind of sexy avenging angel, even an Incubus could work. Perhaps he'd write a poem about this experience one day. An ode to the deity that devoured his soul. Speaking of which.

The sound of a zipper sliding through it's track brought Deacon's glassy vision back to the man before him and he refocused. The flightsuit buckled and peeled away, revealing pale skin that was stretched taught over firm, bitable shoulders, and a smattering of reddish brown hair across truly admirable pectoral muscles. It honestly just wasn't fair. Xenophobia should never be allowed to look this good. Definitely an incubus. 

The strip show ended there though, as the brunette didn't bother removing the rest of his suit. Instead he shoved his hand beneath the waistband, gripping and then stroking himself slowly, never looking away from the man kneeling at his feet. Deacon wanted to groan, wanted to lean forward and mouth hotly, desperately at the teasing bulge. He could practically smell the musk and precum waiting behind the stupid orange fabric, and he had to press the heel of his hand against his groin. With teeth sunk deep into his lip, he looked back up and locked eyes with the paladin before nuzzling his face against the man's crotch, inhaling the scent of him. Danse grunted and slid his hand out, moving it to the back of Deacon's neck and gripping tight, eyes hungrily taking in the tongue that was now dragging over his clothed erection.

"All that talk, and look at you.. You're gagging for it aren't you, slut?"

Deacon moaned, loudly. His fingers gripped his own cock through the fabric and his hips stuttered forward of there own volition. He seriously had not, and probably could not, have prepared himself for a growly, aggressively sexy Brotherhood paladin to be dirty talking to him while grinding against his face. It was too much. He couldn't think straight, and he was probably going to end up dry humping the man's leg at this rate.

"You want it in your mouth, soldier?"

"Gods yes! Please, sir.. I wanna taste it, please let me." Deacon couldn't even bring himself to care that Danse actually did have him begging for it. That was fine, he was just doing what he had to do to not blow his cover. In fact, blowing was almost all he could think of right now. He wanted to get to that like, Immediately.

"Say it again."

"Please!" He practically gasped, "I need your cock in my mouth, Sir. I wanna get you off so bad I can taste It. Taste you, so thick and hot.. your shaft sliding down my throat..Fuck!"

He moaned, going back to mouthing sloppily at the bulge that he wanted to unwrap like it was every birthday present he'd ever asked for. The pressure on his neck held him firm, and again a hand plunged beneath the skintight fabric, this time returning to view with a shiney red leaking cock, the sight of which made Deacon's jerk painfully beneath his lax fingers. He remained still and compliant while the delicious member was stroked just centimeters from his face. Allowing his lips to part, he blew out a gentle steady stream of air, making a shiver run down the other's spine.

The slap across his cheek shocked him, but not because it was hard or painful. Danse was staring into his eyes, tongue sliding over slightly cracked lips, as his hand held his own cock in a firm grip and it rubbed against Deacon's cheek, leaving a shiney trail of precum. Another smack, and the spy knew that his eyes were just as dilated as the paladin's now. He held his breath and his eyelids fluttered shut as the brunette rubbed the head of his cock across Deacon's spit slicked lips, his tongue sliding out to taste. Danse lifted his shaft and allowed the other man to lick along his balls and perineum while he rubbed and smacked his member over the rest of his subordinate's face. Deacon hadn't even had it in his mouth yet, and this was already securing a place in his top five most memorable blowjobs of all time. Who knew he had a thing for being slapped in the face with another man's penis? You learn something new everyday. 

Danse finally seemed to have enough stalling, using one hand to grip Deacon's jaw and keep him in place, while the other angled his cock to slip between pretty, pliant lips. The fat purplish head weighed heavy on the spy's tongue, and he had to strangle down a moan of pure ecstasy. He could tell his jaw was going to be sore before half of Danse had slid past his teeth, and that thought alone had him nearly cuming in his pants. He hadn't been lying, astonishingly, when he'd said that he had no gag reflex. Sure, he'd had one at some point, but despite whatever rumors he may or may not have spread about himself, that was one of the skills he'd actually trained for and acquired. And not usually the fun way people initially suspected, though.. that was a thing too, on occasion. In fact, there had been one particular agent he'd been really close with back at the Switchboard. They weren't lovers or even friends really but Deacon had gotten a lot of practice, as well as feedback, from Tommy Whispers over the months he spent perfecting his special skills.

He'd actually been so distracted by his own ill-timed disquieting thoughts that, before he was aware, Danse was hitting the back of his throat with a grunt and a grind of his hips. Deacon swallowed and tried to breath through a moment of panic, his hands gripping the thighs in front of him and digging his nails in. His throat fluttered desperately around the bulbous head while tears sprung to his eyes, but he continued to focus on his breathing until the sense of panic subsided. Danse had been making tiny aborted moans and thrusting minutely, holding Deacon's head fast and keeping himself entirely sheathed in the sucking, wet heat.

"So good.. You really do suck it like you're on a mission, don't you initiate? I wonder if that's how you got in. Did you bat your lashes over those pretty grey eyes, lick your pouty lips, and suck your way aboard the Prydwen?" Danse seemed to be getting himself just as excited as the man he was using, his hips finally pulling back, only to begin steadily thrusting in and out of Deacon's throat. He went on, "You seem like the type. Is that why you're really here? Have dreams of an entire squad of Brotherhood boys filling every hole you have until you're overflowing? I bet we could make that happen.."

Deacon finally managed to pull himself off Danse's cock, gasping and coughing out, "Fuck.. Fuck.. Gods Danse, I-"

Fingers around his throat, lust blackened eyes locking with his, "Call me Sir or Paladin. You are nothing and don't deserve to speak my name."

The spy whimpered loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip. Fuck.Top five most memorable sexual encounters of all time, not just blowjobs. If Deacon was in a universe where the Synth-Brotherhood-Institute-Railroad war wasn't a thing, he's sure Danse would be considered perfect. But that wasn't the world he lived in, so this nearly perfect moment in time, where he had the Paladin's taste on his tongue and his hands on his body, would have to be enough.

"Yes Sir." He croaked before opening his eyes and looking back to the other man's face. Danse's cock twitched where it stood at attention, drawing Deacon's attention back down as he licked his lips unconsciously.

"That's right, much better. I suggest you put your mouth back on my cock now, before I forget what you're good for."

Absolutely no need to tell him twice. Deacon went right to work, licking his way from tip to base and back before sliding the head past his lips and sucking firmly. He worked his mouth down the shaft slowly, but applied enough suction that he had the brunette's thighs quivering before he let the head reach the back of his throat once more. His palms smoothed up the other man's legs, coming to grip his hips and using the leverage to really get to bobbing.

"Yeah, just like that.." The paladin breathed, eyes heavy lidded but still sharp, taking in every detail of Deacon on his knees, lips stretched wide and wet over his aching shaft, eyes trying not to roll into his head as he services his superior officer.

They both moaned when Danse grabbed his head again and began fucking his mouth, not as rough as last time, but with quicker thrusts. He was grunting and breathing deeply, his flexing torso looked dynamic and almost lewdly artistic, cast in shadow and flickering flame. Deacon allowed his eyes to rake over the man before him, gaze needy and lustful. When he reached the strong jaw and handsome face he found dark eyes looking back at him, equally lustful, and still dangerous in a decidedly unpredictable way. Seriously, not even P.A.M. could have predicted this, so there's no way the spy could guess what might come next. Hopefully just Danse, down his throat, while growling all sexy and deep. But he couldn't totally rule out that he'd be pistol whipped and wake up in a brotherhood jail cell; If they even took captives for long enough to necessitate designated holding areas for them. Which, now that he thought of it, he wondered when Danse had put the gun away. It was a sad day when he wasn't keeping any track of the weapon in a possible enemy's hands.

Deacon's head was suddenly shoved away with enough force that he fell back onto his butt and elbows, grunting in pain as he felt the pavement bite his palms. He wasn't given much time to think before Danse was over him, tugging at his zippers and ripping clothing away with quick movements that spoke of a man very used to taking flightsuits off, and definitely not just off himself. The dark fabric was tugged down his shoulders and arms, and then he was being flipped with no preamble or effort even. He swallowed down a whine as the brunette grabbed the back of his neck and shoved his face into the ground, lifting his hips high and holding for a moment to be sure his subordinate kept the position. The rest of the flightsuit was jerked over his ass and down his thighs, exposing his entire backside to the world and the man behind him.

Part of him thought he was about to be taken, raw, no grease. Which should have terrified him, his mouth did go dry, but the way his cock was throbbing and leaking beneath him didn't say much for his aversion to the thought. He was caught off-guard yet again when a heavy hand came down harshly on his ass, the impact echoing in the darkness around the occupied airport. He couldn't suppressed his gasp, or the groan of pleasure that followed it, and he caught himself pressing back to silently beg for more.

"You've been bad, Soldier." Smack! "You need to be punished." Smack! "You need to learn your place, and fall in line, like a good boy." Smack!

Deacon's head was turned to the side and he was drooling onto the concrete. Not his best look, but he couldn't bother to care. The red hot heat of Danse's hand on his ass, and voice in his ear, was all but liquefying him to his core. He was grinding back against the Paladin, no longer caring what was done to him as long as this man had his way with him. He felt that hard dick sliding between his cheeks as they grinded, still wet from the blowjob, and maybe it wouldn't hurt too bad if he just shoved it in..

"You don't get my cock, you greedy slut." The Paladin growled, clearly reading the other man's mind.

The railroad agent was scared to admit to himself how close he came to whining in a not sexy way, especially since he really wasn't supposed to be actively wanting any of this. Not that that was stopping him, because Gods he wanted. He wanted, and he'd have, as much as he could get. Or take. Whichever came first.

A hand on his hip pushed him forward slightly and held him still, and the bulbous head of Danse's cock rubbed against his rim. He held his breath as the man thrusted very gently over his hole a few times before pulling away again. Then he felt something large and hot sliding between his thighs, nudging against his balls. He was pressed down again, forced to fold in on himself a bit more, and now the other man's cock could thrust against his while he fucked his thighs. The Paladin established a rhythm quickly, his body stretched over the spy, holding him down and keeping him curled up tight. They were both moaning as their members slid together, still aided a bit by saliva and the precum they were both leaking.

Teeth snagged against Deacon's ear, sucking it roughly before biting down his neck and shoulder. He was shaking all over, unable to tell what was from tired muscles, and what was from the man thrusting against him. The scrape of the ground against his legs and face was the only thing keeping him from sinking completely under that silvery fog of disassociation. He felt his balls starting to tighten, and a keening sound worked it's way into his breathing. Again he found himself being tugged and tossed into another position, this time winding up on his back, with his knees nearly pressed into his shoulders.

"Jerk us off." Danse commanded, grinding against his subordinate's exposed ass, "Before I loose my patience and fuck this tight hole of yours."

The spy wasn't sure that threat would work twice, but this time he did as he was told, licking a stripe up his hand and reaching between his legs to grip both their cocks. Their sounds of pleasure echoed one another as he began pumping them, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, squeezing tightly on the down. The little unrestrained jerks of Danse's hips had his eyes closing, desperate for release, and for the other man's release as well. He craved it now, nearly as much as his own. He felt himself start to panic a little as his balls again began to seize up, indicating that he wouldn't last much longer. He swallowed and opened his mouth, prepared to speak but fearing that his release may be denied. Still, he had to play by the rules.

"Sir I-.. I'm gonna.. Cum.. Oh fuck-"

The other man's hand wrapped around his and he kept pumping them both, fast and hard. Deacon's eyes actually did roll back into his head this time, and his entire body clenched up, gasping in air as ecstasy hit and threatened to pull him completely under. His cock swelled even more just before it exploded, shooting white hot trails of cum over his stomach and their laced fingers. He shuddered and choked out a dry sob, feeling oversensitive and confused. The pleasure had 'wiped his hard-drive' as Glory liked to say when someone got knocked out, and it left him with questions and a slight sense of dread.

The paladin didn't waste much time though, lowering the spy's legs to the ground and crawling up his body till he straddled the wide chest. His thighs and torso looked even stronger and more defined from this angle, and Deacon watched with hazy eyes as that lovely cock was leveled at his face. His chin was caught back in that steady grip once more, and he moaned breathily as understanding dawned on him. The leaking member was being stroked in his face now, and he couldn't imagine a lovelier sight. His mouth fell open of it's own accord, and he let his breath caress the hard shaft.

"That's it soldier, just like that. Wait for your reward."

"Yes Paladin.." He moaned, and that was all it took.

Danse was groaning hotly, his hips bucking into his fist as rope after rope of cum coated Deacon's face and waiting tongue. His musky tang filling the air as he tipped his head back and allowed himself to totally empty his balls. The spy had to swallow before the show was even over, not able to recall the last time he'd had someone shoot this much. It was both impressive, and flattering. The fat head pressed to his lips and he looked up to see the Paladin watching him again, though he looked drugged out with pleasure now. The spy's mouth opened and his tongue came out, sliding over the slowly deflating cock, licking it clean like it was his job.

"Good boy." Danse breathed, stroking the back of his hand down the other's face as if they were partners or people who did this kind of thing and it was normal and acceptable.

The Paladin seemed to come back to himself suddenly, rising into a standing position with an enviable ease. Deacon knew he wouldn't be moving properly for quite a while, and wouldn't be doing anything without soreness for even longer. He stayed splayed on the hard ground, feeling the cum cooling against his face and stomach as he watched Danse pull his suit back into place. The man tucked himself away and zipped up before looking back at the mess he'd made of his subordinate, eyes still hungry as they roamed, but his expression changed when he reached the other man's face.

"Listen Max," He cleared his throat and seemed to have to look away to gather his thoughts, "I won't lie to you, this life is never easy, and it isn't for everyone. I want you to know that it's natural to have these fears and doubts, especially after your first serious battle. Just.."

Their eyes locked, and the man looked intense in a whole different way from when he'd been ordering a soldier to his knees earlier.

"Don't give up. Not on yourself, or the Brotherhood, or the hope for a better Commonwealth. You're part of something much greater than yourself. Remember that."

He gave himself one last moment to take in his handy-work, his stare lingering on Deacon's wet, abused lips and cum spattered stomach, before he finally turned and made his way across the airport yard and back into the main building. The silence was quite profound, but Deacon felt empty and calm, no harsh realities immediately threatening to consume him. It took him several minutes before he could gather the will to collect his thoughts, pouring himself back into the flightsuit one last time before retrieving the travel pack he'd stashed. The night was long and quiet as he left the airport yard and headed north, he found himself looking forward to reaching Headquarters for som R&R, hopefully a little after dawn. Though, he was decidedly not excited about trying to write up the report on his mission. It would be such a waste, having to leave out the best parts. But oh well, what Des doesn't know..

**Author's Note:**

> That's it. My first finished Fallout fanfiction. Gods did this story fight me tooth and nail, but I think I triumphed... possibly. Deacon is laughing manically somewhere, and Danse is wondering when I had to do any work during this whole endeavor, so who knows. Please tell me what you think, how you feel, what you wanna see next~


End file.
